


Initial Mistake

by lilsherlockian1975



Series: Tumblr stuff and other little things [20]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Humor, Sexual Humor, Texting, naughty words, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 23:23:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14862263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsherlockian1975/pseuds/lilsherlockian1975
Summary: Sherlock gets back from a case and sends three texts but none are to the intended recipients. Oops! That's what he gets for having three MH's in his mobile! Chaos ensues!"About that text…""Yeah." She laughed. "I figured you meant to send it to Mycroft. Took me a mo, but it struck me while I was spreading Mr. Davies' ribs. I told you to change your contacts before you do something like that.""I sent you an explanation…""Oh, my mobile died during my last autopsy. Forgot my charger this morning. I need to get a spare for work." Taking his hand, she started pulling towards the bedroom. "This is a teaching moment, Sherlock. Just be thankful that you didn't send Mrs. Hudson a message asking for a photo of my boobs or something. She'd probably take you seriously. Really, telling me off, thinking I'm your brother, isn't even close to the disaster this could have been.""Disaster…"





	Initial Mistake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MizJoely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/gifts).



> MizJoely prompted me to write this and, Lord, did I have fun! The actual prompt is at the bottom to keep from spoiling anything. No sex, but lots of naughtiness.
> 
> The lovely and talented MrsMCrieff beta'd this for me. Thanking you Mrs!
> 
> I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~

**J** **ohn Watson**

Still laughing, John watched Sherlock pacing the flat. The anxious man checked his mobile every two seconds. He couldn't help it. His friend's laziness had finally caught up with him and he was enjoying every minute of it.

"I warned you, you know!" the doctor said, not even trying to hide his glee.

Sherlock ignored him and, once again, checked his phone.

"This could have been avoided if you'd just update your contacts! Who uses initials instead of full names?" John asked.

"Bugger off!" Sherlock snapped.

"Now, is that for me, or Mrs. Hudson?

" _John…"_

"It would go nicely with the photo you sent her," he said as he stood.

Throwing his hands in the air, Sherlock growled inarticulately, then stomped towards the kitchen.

John followed, saying, "If you're looking for chocolate digestives, you're out, remember? You asked Mycroft to fetch you some. I'm sure he's on his way. Should be here any minute with your nibbles."

 **Mycroft Holmes**  (twenty-seven minutes prior)

"If you'll turn to page sixty-seven of your pack, you can follow along as I explain. The increase in our usage of staples has had a profound effect on the budget. I propose…"

Mycroft turned to the appropriate page but did not follow along.  _What is this fool even talking about?_ His mind wandered to more productive things, like the height of Andrea's shoes she'd been wearing that morning. They seemed to get higher and higher every day. She'd be taller than him soon. Today they were black patent leather.  _They'd go nicely with the black teddy and thong I just bought her,_  he thought.

He was just conjuring a visual of his assistant in something altogether unsuitable for work when his mobile pinged. Looking down, he opened his messages. It was from his brother.  _Of course._

 **Emergency,**  it read.  **Need chocolate digestives immediately. Blood sugar dangerously low. Death imminent. If door to flat is locked, leave them. Either dead or busy writing Last Will and Testament**

Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes. Unfortunately, this drew the attention of the Minister of… _Staples? Oh, God! Who is this idiot?_

"Mr. Holmes," the idiot said. "Did you have something to add?"

"No, Minister," he answered. "I just received a message about a family member. They are quite… ill, it seems."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," the man said, actually looking concerned. "Do you need to leave to take care of them?"

For the first time since they were children, Mycroft felt like hugging his little brother. He wouldn't of course, any more than he'd fetch his damn biscuits! However… "If it wouldn't be too much of a problem, Minister?"

"Of course not." The man waved him off. "Go. Take care of your family, Mr. Holmes. I'll forward the meeting minutes to your assistant."

Mycroft stood and quickly exited the room as he made his way towards the lifts he wondered if Andrea was back from the office supply store yes. They'd run out of stapes, ironically. She  _might_ just need a foot rub after walking around in those shoes all day.

 **Martha Hudson**  (thirty-three minutes prior)

"I cannot thank you enough, Martha," Father Haverty said as they stood in the rectory, finishing up their conversation about the upcoming Saturday morning breakfast.

"It's no trouble, Father. You know how much I enjoy helping. Are you sure a dozen batches are enough?" she asked.

"More than, I'd say," he answered with a chuckle. "The last time you baked for the soup kitchen, we had quite a turnout, though. If word gets out, I'm sure we'll be feeding half of London."

As Mrs. Hudson smiled at the compliment her mobile pinged. "If you'll just excuse me," she said, pulling the device out of her bag.

"I understand," the priest said. "Even  _I_ have one of those things."

After unlocking the screen, she opened her messages to find a photo of a… "What the hell?!" she exclaimed.

"Martha?"

She barely heard him, too absorbed in the image in front of her eyes. "I can't… it's… Sherlock's sent me a… penis!"

"Excuse me?" Father Haverty asked in a startled voice.

Looking up, she realised what she had just said, to a priest no less. "Oh, sorry. My tenant, he's, ah, a detective and I believe that this is something to do with a case… I, ah, think."

"Is… that something he does… often?"

"Well, he's…" Thinking fast, she tried to come up with an explanation. She had nothing! "… Protestant," she finally said with a tilt of her head, hoping it would be enough. The priest's lips thinned as he nodded, as a knowing look swept over his face.  _I can't believe that worked._  "If you'll excuse me. I should…"

"Of course," he said. "We'll see you Saturday."

Once on the pavement outside the church, Martha pulled up the contacts on her mobile, looking for Mrs. Turner's number. "Emmaline?!" she said when her friend answered the call. "This idea of yours had better work because I just humiliated myself in front of Father Haverty!" Pause. "Sherlock, of course! He sent me a dick pic."

The last two words got her several strange looks; she didn't even notice.

"Oh, he was obviously trying to send it to Molly." Pause. "Because it came with the message ' _See what you do to me? Come as quick as you can. Dead bodies can't be nearly as interesting as my hard cock!_ '"

The strange looks once again went unnoticed by the older woman, she was too busy giggling.

"Now, back to my problem. If Mr. Campbell isn't there this Saturday I'm going to be quite unhappy about spending two weeks baking my fingers to the bone for your church! Meeting a man shouldn't be this much work! You'd better make sure he's there or I won't let you see what Sherlock's working with!"

 **Molly Hooper**  (thirty-nine minutes prior)

It had been one of those days; Molly was exhausted. She had performed three autopsies (complete with mounds of paperwork) and was getting ready to start her fourth when her mobile pinged. It was sitting in her office, of course, she never brought it with her to the morgue. She had just walked out the door when she heard it. Turning, she huffed and walked back inside to read the message.

 **I won't do whatever it is you want from me - Sherlock**  it read. "What?" she said out loud, shocked and a little bit hurt.

She read the last message she'd sent him…

**If Toby doesn't stop pissing on the bathroom rug I'm going to lose my mind! Is it the colour? Does it offend his aesthetic? I mean, he's never done this before! Think I should take him to the vet or is it just a phase? Oh, and how's the case? Miss you (and your cock!) - Molly xx**

It made no sense. What did he think she wanted from him? Could he have thought she expected him to take Toby to the vet? She shook her head. No; that was just stupid. She never asked Sherlock to run errands for her. He was… Well, she loved the man, but he was laziness personified. He once messaged her to ask her to get him a blanket because he was cold and it was 'all the way in his bedroom'. She didn't, of course. She told him to get up off his arse, unless he was he was dying, and get his own damn blanket!

Rereading the message, Molly once again tried to figure out what she could have done to upset her… Sherlock. They hadn't made any 'proclamations' yet. They just  _were_.

"Dr. Hooper," Eric, her lab assistant, called out.

"Yes, sorry," she said, locking her mobile, she laid the device down on her desk. "I'm coming." It would have to wait,  _he_ would have to wait, Molly had a fifty-seven-year-old drowning victim to deal with at the moment.

 **Sherlock Holmes**  (three hours later)

He was in a state. Sherlock had spoken with his brother, well, he'd exchanged text messages…

**That was a mistake. Phone me. - Sherlock**

**Of course it was a mistake. I'm not getting you biscuits, little brother. You've managed to survive this long, you shall persevere. - Mycroft**

**I mean, you pompous windbag, that it was sent in error! - Sherlock**

**Ah, that does make sense. If Mrs. Hudson is going to the shops, have her get me some whipped cream and strawberries. - Mycroft**

**No. Have your assistant pick them up. They're for her, after all. - Sherlock**

There were no more messages after that.

He had also received a phone call from his landlady. The conversation that had followed was one that he would  _definitely_ be erasing from his mind palace…

" _Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson said when he answered._

" _Yes?" He tried to sound unaffected. He was not._

" _Next time you want to send your girlfriend a photo of your bits and bobs, you might want to be more careful."_

" _Yes, Mrs. Hudson."_

" _And Sherlock?"_

" _Yes?"_

" _Tell Molly I said congratulations."_

_Sigh. "Yes, Mrs. Hudson."_

He had not heard from his lover, however, and it was killing him. He had messaged her first, of course. Then phoned her, though he hadn't expected her to answer. Even if she wasn't furious with him, she was at work and most likely busy.

They had yet to have an actual 'fight' so far in their relationship. Things had been going smoothly. Too smoothly. He knew he was bound to bugger things up eventually, he just never thought it would be over something so unimaginably stupid as a series of missent texts.

Thankfully, John had left to go pick up Rosamund from her playgroup. Sherlock needed to think. Molly's shift had just ended and she should have been able to phone him.  _Unless she's pissed off at me, that is._

Did women find this sort of thing unforgivable? He didn't bloody know! He'd never been in a relationship before, for God's sake!

His explanation to her had been direct and to the point. He had not begged for forgiveness. Sherlock Holmes  _did_ not beg. It was a simple mistake (a hilarious one, judging by John's reaction), and if she couldn't see that, then maybe she wasn't really the woman for him!

It was bad enough that his landlady had seen his penis (his fully erect penis!). Molly would just have to get over this little mishap and move on! If she couldn't understand that he was tired and hungry and distracted by his overwhelming desire for her…

Why hadn't she phoned him back?!

Why was she avoiding him?!

He checked his watch.  _7.17. She should be out of the building by now._ Picking up his mobile, he sighed seeing that he had no new messages. Tapping on her name - her full name - he looked at her photo for a moment.

After realising his mistake - which happened about ten minutes after sending Molly's  _(intended)_  message - he went through his contacts, changing all the initials to full names. He also added photos to some of them, just for good measure. To Molly's he attached a picture of her sleeping on his settee; Mycroft got a generic image of a half eaten chocolate cake.

The longer he stared at Molly's photo the more anxious he became. Her silence spoke volumes. His mind started concocting all sorts of scenarios, none of them good. She wouldn't forgive him. She'd leave him and he'd be alone for the rest of his life. He didn't want to be alone anymore! Now that he knew what it felt like to be loved, truly loved, he didn't want to go back to a solitary life! He'd miss the companionship, the conversations, the sex!

He simply didn't want to be without her.

So caught up in his irrational panicking, he failed to notice the footfalls on the stairs. Suddenly, the door to the flat opened. Raising his head, he saw her,  _his Molly,_  walking into the flat. She wasn't looking at him, busy kicking off her shoes and tossing her bag onto the settee.

"It's bloody hot out there… still!" she said with an exasperated sigh. Finally, her eyes met his. "Sherlock! You look awful! Haven't you slept yet?"

"No," he answered, moving towards her slowly. He couldn't quite believe that she was standing in his flat. Wasn't she angry with him? Hadn't he done something horrible?  _Wait… No!_  Trying to clear his mind, he closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.  _Oh, yes. The messages._  When he opened them, Molly was right in front of him.

"You can't do this! You've been up for days, haven't you, you stupid man?"

 _Almost three days, actually._  "About that text…"

"Yeah." She laughed. "I figured that you meant to send it to Mycroft. Took me a mo, but it struck me while I was spreading Mr. Davies' ribs. I told you to change your contacts before you do something like that."

"I sent you an explanation…"

"Oh, my mobile died during my last autopsy. Forgot my charger this morning. I need to get a spare for work." Taking his hand, she started pulling towards the bedroom. " _This_ is a teaching moment, Sherlock. Just be thankful that you didn't send Mrs. Hudson a message asking for a photo of my boobs or something. She'd probably take you seriously. Really, telling me off, thinking I'm your brother, isn't even  _close_ to the disaster this could have been."

"Disaster…"

"Yes." They were in the bedroom before he even realised it. Molly started undressing him. "You take a nap," she said as she unbuttoned his oxford. "And I'll run home and check on Toby. He's been…"

"Urinating on your rugs."

"I think I've figured that out, by the way. He's mad because I'm not home as much and acting…"

"Bring him here," Sherlock said, surprising even himself.

She had gotten to his trousers but stopped all movement, looking him in the eyes. She seemed bewildered. "What?"

"You heard me, Molly. Why are we pretending that this isn't inevitable?" He gripped her arms, pulling her closer. "Move in with me."

"You need sleep, Sherlock. You've gone loopy."

He rolled his eyes. "I haven't. I don't want to have to track you down to show you my erection!" Okay, maybe he was a  _little_ loopy. He would still have to track her down if she was working or out with her friends, but he'd feel much better if they had some kind of… understanding.

" _What?!"_  she squeaked.

Stepping back, he sighed and sat down on the bed. After gathering his thoughts, he looked up. "You're right; I am tired. But I want you here, with me. I… We haven't made any kind of formal… statement…" It wasn't the right word - none of them were - but he was determined to get to his point. "I just…I  _do_ love you, of course, and…"

Molly was suddenly kneeling at his feet, holding hands, a huge smile on her face. "Okay, yes. Of course I'll move in, you silly man!" She kissed him sweetly. "I don't know what brought this on, but I am  _very_ happy about it."

"Yes?"

"Yes!"

He heaved a deep breath. "Good. I think I'll sleep now if you don't mind." Lying back, still fully clothed except for his unbuttoned shirt, he said, "Go, get Toby and some of your things. And some biscuits, if you don't mind. I never did get any…" Yawning, he rubbed his eyes. "We'll settle everything else later."

Molly tugged on his shirt sleeve, then rolled him and removed it completely. She pulled off his trousers, tucked a blanket around him and kissed his forehead. "Be back in a bit."

"Bye, love," he mumbled, then suddenly remembered something important. "Oh, Mrs. Hudson wanted me to congratulate you."

"On what?"

"The size of my penis."

"What?"

"You weren't the only one who got the wrong message today, unfortunately," he said as he rolled onto his side. "Or fortunately depending on the way you look at it."

**Author's Note:**

> mizjoely said: Premise: Sherlock is lazy when it comes to his contact list on his phone. Therefore he has 3 MH's: Mycroft Holmes, Molly Hooper and Martha Hudson. He gets a text from Myc, which he doesn't bother reading. He's getting back from a case and is horny so he decides to send Molly a dick pic. But he also wants chocolate digestives so he wants to ask Mrs. H to pick some up for him. And he decides to tell Mycroft to piss off, "I won't do whatever it is you want from me".
> 
> He sends that one to Molly, the dick pic to Mrs. H and the request for the biscuits to Myc.
> 
> Like I said, so much fun! Let me know what you thought and thanks for reading. ~Lil~


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